


The Crypt of Lycaon

by Jigen



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jigen/pseuds/Jigen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret organization kidnaps Fujiko and threatens to kill her unless Lupin steals a mysterious chest from a particular man. However, Jigen ends up getting more involved with the organization than he had anticipated, and the gang of thieves find themselves in the middle in a conflict over a treasure that has spanned centuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

Wherever Lupin the Third went, Inspector Zenigata would follow. They fell into this pattern quite easily—they were close, if not evenly matched adversaries, after all, and it was predictable to the point where if either of them failed to show the other would immediately know something was amiss. 

So when the good inspector received word of another one of Lupin’s calling cards, he immediately set off into the German Alps to a small town called Eisenhut. Lupin’s target? A man named Lord Ebner. Zenigata had never heard of him until he had been informed of Lupin’s involvement. He was apparently a terribly influential (and ludicrously rich) man in Southern Germany due to his lineage, which could be traced back to the Middle Ages. Frankly, Zenigata had no respect for those who lived off of their ancestors’ glory and did little work themselves. If you didn’t work to meet the expectations set by your predecessors, then you were surely shaming the entire family. At least Lupin had some honor left in him—that, Zenigata could respect. 

When he finally pulled up to Ebner’s mansion, it was already nightfall. Snow was falling heavily, coating the entire town under a thick white blanket. The only illumination was the full moon and the flashing of red and blue police lights. 

The gothic buildings were all huddled together, as if cold. Zenigata couldn’t see the snow-covered streets, but he imagined they were made out of cobblestones, or just dirt. 

The snow crunched beneath his boots as Zenigata got out of his patrol car and glanced over the mansion. It was quite a large building—four stories tall, from what he could see—and perched upon an incredibly steep, snow-covered hill, casting an almost ominous presence over the rest of the town. Perhaps it would have appeared more welcoming if it hadn’t been made out of stone or had been at least a _little_ smaller. 

“Ah, so the great inspector finally appears on the scene. Mr. Zenigame, is it not?” 

A voice with a heavy German accent spoke from the entrance of the mansion. Zenigata turned his head to see a middle-aged man strolling towards him. A silver-tipped cane in hand, the man had a smug expression upon his face and was wearing a set of exquisite fur-lined robes. His greying hair had been slicked back, and a set of round glasses sat precariously on the bridge of his nose. 

“Inspector Zenigata from Interpol,” Zenigata corrected curtly, saluting the man. “Your name is Lord Gerulf Ebner, yes? You have nothing to worry about from Lupin, our security measures will protect whatever he plans to steal from you—” 

“Ah,” Ebner cut in. “Incidentally, I came down to discuss those ‘security measures’ of yours. You see, we, in fact, do not require your help.” 

Zenigata blinked. 

_“What?!”_ he shouted, causing Lord Ebner to wince and several police officers to stare over at the commotion. 

“There is no need to yell, inspector. I believe you heard me quite clearly,” Ebner said, composing himself once more. “Come, let us speak inside—we will both freeze to death in this dreadful weather.” 

He had barely finished his sentence when Zenigata plowed past him and into the mansion. The foyer was almost entirely lit by gas lamps, save for an electric chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Paintings had been hung on every wall—and almost every one of them was a picture of Ebner. Lord Ebner standing triumphantly over a dead wolf, Lord Ebner holding up a human skull, Lord Ebner posing with a shimmering sword…the paintings proceeded on and on in this manner. 

There was a cough behind Zenigata, and the inspector turned to see Ebner, looking rather irked. 

“I understand you are upset—you came all the way from Japan on such short notice, yes? I apologize for inconveniencing you, but we do not require this much security to take care of a petty thief.” 

Zenigata grit his teeth together, exhaling sharply. _Why_ was this so difficult for others to understand? 

“Lupin is no petty thief!” he barked, clenching his fists. “He steals everything from the most powerful people in the world! Whatever he sets his sights on, he always gets!” 

A sudden chuckle came from Ebner, which quickly became a loud peal of laughter. He slammed his cane against the ground before he finally calmed down. Zenigata stood stiffly, his left eye twitching. 

“Even if that were to be the case, and not a showing of your own incompetence,” Ebner said, still maintaining a polite tone (it took everything within Zenigata to keep from punching the man in the face), “I have several personal defenses already in place to guard against any unwanted guests.” 

His voice suddenly took on a much colder tone. “No one gets in—or out, for that matter—without our permission.” 

“But—” Zenigata began to protest. 

“Inspector, have you been informed of the entire contents of the calling card this ‘Lupin’ has sent me?” 

There was a pause. “No, but—” 

Casually, Lord Ebner tossed a slip of paper towards Zenigata, who caught it after a bit of fumbling. He turned it right-side up, squinting at the small words. 

“‘Greetings, Lord Edge-ner!” he slowly read out loud. He lingered for a moment on the terrible pun before continuing. “Tomorrow night, I will appear from the darkness and take your precious Lykoi Chest. Don’t forget to inform Inspector Zenigata! Signed, Lupin III.’” 

Another pause. “Lykoi Chest?” Zenigata repeated, bemused. “Where is this thing? And what’s inside of it?” 

Raising an eyebrow, Ebner scoffed. “Nothing of significant value. And the chest in question is right here.” 

Ebner tucked his cane under his arm and clapped his hands twice. A pair of servants dressed in red robes shuffled out of a doorway Zenigata was sure had been a panel of the wall just a moment before. Their faces were obscured by their hoods and their heads were bent low. Between them, they carried a small, unremarkable wooden chest with several strange characters etched onto its surface. The lock was coated in so much rust that one wouldn’t have be able to open it, even with the key. The servants bowed to Ebner and Zenigata before gently placing it on the ground and taking a step back. Zenigata stared at them for a moment before turning his attention to the chest. 

“This is it?” Confused, he kneeled down, inspecting the chest. It was rather worn, and the wood was beginning to rot. He lifted it up, feeling how light it was and shaking it. There was no sound. 

Ebner nodded, tapping a finger against the handle of his cane. “Now you see?” he said, his voice becoming warmer and polite again. “I’m not so much concerned about it being stolen…but I am _rather_ curious as to why the ‘renowned thief’ you so claim this Lupin to be would be interested in such a piece of junk.” 

“And I would be glad to answer that question!” a proud voice crowed. 

Almost immediately, Zenigata shot up, dropping the chest on his foot. He let out a curse, hopping a few times before glaring upwards. Startled, Ebner whipped around, looking for the source of the voice. 

“LUPIN!” Zenigata shouted, his eyes darting to every corner of the room. He knew the tricks the thief often employed—this was merely a show, a challenge of power towards the (apparently) great and powerful Lord Ebner. “COME OUT AT ONCE!” 

The voice laughed in a mocking manner, echoing throughout the entire foyer. “Pops, I wasn’t finished talking!” it said, as if scolding him. “I said I would be glad to answer that question, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. So I’ll be taking my leave now!” 

With that, all of the gas lamps in the room blew out. As the lights faded, Zenigata saw out of the corner of his eye one of the robed servants diving for the chest. The other servant revealed a revolver and, before he could react, fired a single shot at the chandelier. The room was plunged into darkness as the chandelier fell to the floor with a loud _CRASH_. Zenigata leapt blindly towards them, grabbing a fistful of cloth and yanking it towards him. 

“Aha! I’ve got you now, Lupin!” 

“Let GO of me, you half-wit!” hissed Ebner’s voice. A foot met Zenigata’s face and he tumbled backwards onto the floor, yelping in pain. 

“Get those lights on! Be ready to deal with that pesky thief and vandal!” Ebner shouted. Zenigata could hear his footsteps slowly growing fainter and fainter. 

The foyer’s gas lamps slowly came to life again, illuminating the room in an eerie orange light. Lord Ebner and the two servants were nowhere to be seen. Two red robes lay discarded on the floor next to the empty spot where the chest had been. 

There was a familiar yell and the faint crash of glass in the other room. Zenigata leapt to his feet again, handcuffs at the ready. 

“LUPIN, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” 

\---

Jigen absolutely hated everything about this heist. 

He had said (well, complained) about this to Lupin about this beforehand. The only reason they had come to steal this Lykoi chest, whatever _that_ was, was because Fujiko had been conveniently kidnapped. And, of course, the ransom was this shitty treasure in the middle of the goddamn Alps that neither of them had ever heard of. It didn’t help that the kidnapper was extremely tight-lipped about what the Lykoi chest actually was beyond ‘an ancient wooden chest of extremely high value to us’. 

He had, of course, protested thoroughly against the plan with various excuses. She was just taking advantage of Lupin’s infatuation. He was going to get double-crossed again. He was going to _freeze_ to death in the mountains, even _with_ a warm parka (which he had forgotten to bring anyways). It was the most _idiotic_ idea for a getaway. She wasn’t even worth saving. This heist was a waste of time. And so on and so forth. 

But his complaints had been dismissed by Lupin and here he was now, jumping out of a recently-smashed window into the likely freezing snow below. Lupin was beside him, tightly clutching a wooden chest of dubious value. Knowing the thief, he probably had a shit-eating grin on his face, but the darkness obscured his expression. 

He didn’t even want to be here. 

Upon landing, Jigen immediately sank up to his knees in the snow and he let out a curse, scrambling to pull himself out. Shit, now his clothes were wet and he was going to probably get hypothermia and die because he forgot his winter clothes. He had not agreed to this heist. He should have never come along. 

There was the sound of an engine turning over—Lupin had started up a nearby police car and gave it a kick, causing it to roll off towards the frosty tundra. Several shouts could be heard in the night as several policemen chased after it. 

“Jigen!” he yelled, pulling something out of his jacket pocket and pulling a string. The object inflated rapidly and revealed itself to be an inflatable rubber raft, settling gently on the snow. Jigen finally managed to pull himself out of the snow and leapt towards the raft, landing face-first in it. As the makeshift sled began to slide downhill, Lupin hopped into it, shoving the chest behind them as he attempted to steer through the darkness. 

This was so _stupid_. 

A bullet whizzed past them, dangerously close to Jigen’s head. Jigen turned to respond with his own gun when there was another gunshot and a hole was punctured in the back of the raft. Immediately, air began to hiss out with startling speed, and Lupin let out a yelp as the raft began to slide faster downhill. Jigen grabbed the chest as it threatened to fall out and become lost in the snow. 

He turned back to face Lupin when they were suddenly floating—no, falling. The two thieves and the raft were suspended in the air as they plummeted off of the ledge that Lupin had, apparently, not seen in time to avoid. Jigen lost his grip on his revolver as he let out a yelp, gripping the quickly deflating raft. 

He felt as if they had been in the air for an eternity before they finally met the cold ground again. He tumbled through the snow, gasping for air and clutching his hat. 

“ _Lupin!_ ” he called out, looking around in a blind panic. As he scrambled to crawl out of the snow again (he was _never_ going to forgive Lupin for this if he got sick), he felt something in front of him, presumably the remains of the rubber raft. 

“Jigen!” came the faint response, and something landed next to him—his revolver. 

Jigen scooped it up and struggled to stand. He saw Lupin (well, his bright jacket, really) standing a few yards away, covered in snow and pointing at something on the ground. 

It was the chest—or, at least, what was left of the rotting wood. The chest had split open on a rock protruding from the ground, its contents revealed. Jigen squinted at the remains on the ground, drawing closer and holstering his magnum. 

“A...wolf skin?” he said, incredulous. “We froze our asses off for _this_?” 

He was barely able to get out another complaint before he heard a shout in German—sharp, demanding, and dangerously close. 

“We’re going to get our asses _killed_ if we stick around! Grab it and follow me!” Lupin yelled before running off. 

Jigen grabbed the wolf pelt, grumbling under his breath and shivering as he followed Lupin further into the dark mountains. If the cold didn’t kill him, he was going to strangle Lupin after this. 

They could barely walk, much less run through the snow. The weather changed from poor to utterly dreadful as the wind whipped around them with increased ferocity, biting at any exposed skin it could find. The sky became shrouded in clouds, blocking any moonlight that could have illuminated the ground for them. The sounds of the mansion faded—though Jigen presumed it because they couldn’t hear anything through the storm. 

He felt as if his fingers were going to fall off—actually, it felt like _all_ of his limbs felt like they were going to fall off piece by piece and be lost to the snow. This was it. This would be how he was going to die. Not from someone killing him because of his long and regretful relationships, but from forgetting his lousy parka. 

“Lupin!” he called out hoarsely, squinting at the bright red blob through the snow. 

There was a long pause before a voice responded through the wind. “What?!” Lupin’s voice was faint, despite being a few feet in front of Jigen. 

“Where the _hell_ are we going?!” he shouted back, positively quaking with cold at this point. It didn’t exactly help that with every step he sank knee-deep into the snow. “I’m going to catch pneumonia, asshole!” 

“You won’t die if you keep moving! C’mon, we’re almost there!” 

Shoving his hat further over his eyes and grumbling, Jigen continued to trek onwards. 

After what seemed to be ages, they reached a small cave carved out of the side of a mountain. Lupin crawled inside, inspecting the interior. 

“Hmm. Place hasn’t changed a whole lot since we were last here. C’mon in, Jigen, it’s snug and warm! Compared to outside, at least,” he called, his voice echoing in the cavern. 

Jigen let out a snort, bending over and shuffling inside. The cave was just as cold and barren as outside, only with less wind and snow. It was just the right size for a few people and a campfire. Not that there was anything to burn for a fire in this frozen wasteland. Lupin had taken out his lighter and was already puffing on a cigarette. If he was cold, he certainly wasn’t showing any signs of it. 

Sitting down, Jigen took out his own cigarettes and lighter. The two sat for a few minutes in silence, the smell of tobacco filling the cave and the storm howling outside. A ‘harrumph’ was heard as Jigen shoved his hands under his armpits in an attempt to warm them, sneezing twice. Lupin cast a concerned look in his direction. Jigen pretended not to see. 

“Do you think Zenigata could find us here?” he asked, his tone flat as he lay down on his side. The floor was just as frigid as the air, if not worse. Did he mention how much he hated the cold? 

Lupin shrugged, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. “If he’s as persistent as usual? Probably. But I wouldn’t want him catching his death in this weather, y’know?” 

Jigen let out a grunt in response. “I swear to God, if I die from pneumonia, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your sorry life.” 

That prompted a loud, hyena-like laugh from Lupin. “How many times have you said that, hm, Jigen, dear?” he said, grinning. “Last time, I believe we were being hunted by a sniper.” 

“That was different. He was a man. This is Mother Nature we’re facing here. And I’m blaming you for dragging this frozen gunslinger into this mess.” 

“A frozen gunslinger who decided to come with me, despite complaining for hours.” 

A sharp grumble. “You could have at least prepared this place more in advance. I’m cold _and_ starving.” 

“Tomorrow morning, I promise I’ll get us some good food, alright? And, if you’re cold, why don’t you wear that wolf pelt or something?” 

Muttering under his breath, Jigen sat up and wrapped the wolf pelt around his shivering body. As soon as he did, he found that the fur was incredibly soft and warm, and he couldn’t help but wonder for a moment whether this was truly the valuable treasure they had been informed about. 

The cold was getting to his mind. Holding the pelt tighter around himself, he ran his fingers through the dark fur of the pelt and curled up. Lupin raised an eyebrow at his friend. 

“Jigen, I didn’t know you were a fur—” 

Lupin’s sentence was cut off by an icy stare from Jigen. Letting out a long sigh, Jigen lay down again, now facing the stone wall of the cavern. 

Silence settled over them again as Lupin mimicked Jigen, lying down on his side and resting his head on his hand. 

“Lykoi…Lykoi. That name sounds familiar,” Lupin finally muttered to himself, breaking the slience. He scratched at the side of his face, seemingly lost in thought. “Did you notice what was written on the chest?” he inquired, a bit louder. 

It took a moment or two for Jigen to reply. “I don’t care.” 

Either Lupin hadn’t heard Jigen, or he had ignored the comment. “It was in Greek, from what I could tell. Why send us all the way here to steal some ratty old wolf pelt in a rather peculiar chest? Why not just tell us what was in the chest in the first place?” 

Jigen rolled onto his back, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and extinguishing it on the ground with a scoff. “I don’t care,” he repeated. “This heist was a waste of time. Wake me up when we have to go.” 

There was no response, but he heard Lupin getting up and sitting down closer to him. Jigen took his hat and placed it precariously on his own face. After considering for a moment, he took off the wolf pelt and wrapped it more like a blanket around himself. For hours, he listened to the storm howling outside before he finally fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pbtbhbhbhbh, here it is. My first attempt at a full length fic. Hope you all enjoy this?
> 
> I will try and update this regularly if my schedule allows it....School and such may get in the way, but I've got a few buffer chapters just in case i can't keep up.
> 
> Thank you, Sycamore, for being a great beta reader! You're the best!
> 
> If there is anything i can improve on, please leave a comment! I'm always trying to get better at writing.


	2. The Calm

When they woke up, the sun was barely peaking over the mountains. The sky was bright and clear, save for a few scattered clouds left over from last night’s storm. Lupin swore that the ground had accumulated another foot of snow while they had been sleeping. 

After enduring another round of complaining from Jigen, the two thieves made their way to the next village where they ate breakfast (Lupin, true to his word, treated Jigen to a plate of spätzle at a bar, which was promptly devoured) and hitched a ride on a bus to Munich. The wolf pelt had been safely tucked into a paper bag they had taken from a small grocery store. 

When they had both taken their seats, Jigen finally spoke. “Where did the lady ask us to meet her again?” he asked, chewing on the end of a cigarette. Lupin was definitely sure it was illegal to smoke on public transportation, but it seemed that the bus driver was too busy listening to music to pay much attention to his only two passengers. 

“Outside of Marienplatz,” Lupin replied, stretching his limbs. “Munich. We get Fujiko back, chill at the hideout, make sure Pops isn’t following us, everyone is happy! We’ll also start planning for the next heist—” There was an audible _pop_ from his joints, and he saw Jigen wince before frowning at him. “—Hey, you didn’t think we’d leave Germany empty-handed, did you? There’s this collection of paintings from Tripoli they just put up for display in Old Pinakothek, and it’s collectively worth almost three billion Euros. Not to mention there’s a rumor that the paintings themselves lead to an even greater treasure.” 

Jigen harrumphed, casting a wary glance towards the bus driver, who was now swaying back and forth to whatever music he was blasting into his earbuds. “And who told you about this?” 

“Fujiko dear, of course.” 

There was a long pause as Jigen stared judgmentally at Lupin. “If we’re planning another heist, you better ask Goemon to come. I doubt Fujiko would be much help.” 

“You’re just jealous because you can’t get any girls!” Lupin said, rolling his eyes. 

Jigen crossed his arms and slouched in his seat, muttering something under his breath. Lupin hesitated for a moment before turning to stare out the window, tapping his knuckles idly against the glass. His throat was sore—was he getting sick? Impossible. The great Lupin the Third never got sick. 

It was a few hours before they finally reached Munich. A few more passengers came and left as they continued along the road, occasionally casting suspicious glances at the scruffy stranger and the grinning gentleman in the loud red jacket. The bus stopped in front of Marienplatz station, and Lupin and Jigen hopped off, paper bag in hand. 

The city square was bustling with people—tourists, businessmen, civilians, they all seemed to be gathered here and moving about with purpose. A businessman in a sharp suit was barking some sort of insult at his phone, furiously tapping at the screen as he strode across the square. A teenager with a python wrapped around her neck rolled by on a skateboard. A huddled group of English tourists were slowly making their way towards the town hall, cameras clicking furiously. 

“C’mon, let’s get this over with and go to where they said they’d meet us,” Jigen grumbled, walking off. 

As they walked, the chaos of the plaza became intermingled with the other noises of the city—cars honking, birds chirping, incoherent shouts all echoed through the streets. They zigzagged their way through the city until they found themselves at the end of a dismal alleyway. Four silhouettes appeared at the entrance of the alley, one of which was all too familiar to Lupin. 

_“Fujiko!”_ he cried out, undaunted by the other imposing figures as he leapt forward. Two of them took a step in front of Fujiko, stopping Lupin short. One was somewhat squat and burly with a vicious underbite, which made him look almost identical to an oversized bulldog. The other was a tall white man with dark sunglasses who sported a beard that could have outdone Jigen’s. Both sported dark trench coats, despite the warm weather. The bearded man raised his arm and pressed something metallic against Lupin’s chest. The thief looked down to see a pistol, half hidden by the man’s sleeve. 

“Jeez, talk about making a first impression with those clothes of yours,” Lupin scoffed, addressing the man and ignoring the obvious threat. “Do you treat all of your acquaintances like this?” 

“Discussing fashion choices isn’t the purpose of this meeting, Mr. Lupin,” spoke the figure behind the two guards, taking another step forward and giving him a measured look. She was dressed in an unassuming white sweater. Her face was heavily scarred and her expression calm. “You ought to update your own wardrobe before commenting on others. Do you have what we asked for?” 

There was a small chuckle. “I’m hurt, Ms. Lin,” Lupin said, his voice smooth. Jigen held up the paper bag containing the wolf pelt before tossing it to Lupin. “Here you go—the treasure of Lord Ebner.” Lupin said, catching it and handing it to the woman. “Though, it’s kind of low of you to threaten Fujiko for my services, hm?” 

“It got the job done, didn’t it?” she returned curtly. She peered at the bag for a moment before casting a suspicious eye towards him. 

“I thought I asked you to steal the Lykoi chest _with_ its contents,” she said, her tone deadpan. Lupin studied her face for a minute—her expression had become utterly blank. 

“It was rotting,” Jigen cut in, crossing his arms and glaring at each of them in turn. “The chest broke apart when we stole it.” 

There was a tense pause as Jigen and Lin glared at each other, each of them evaluating the other. 

“Ah. An unfortunate occurrence, I suppose,” Lin finally said, taking the bag from Lupin. “If this turns out to be a fake…” 

“Don’t worry, it isn’t.” 

“…I will not hesitate to hunt you and your comrade down.” Lin gave Lupin an icy stare that caused him to inadvertently shiver. 

He let out a small, forced laugh. “We are considered professionals for a reason. Is Fujiko free to go now?” 

Lin muttered something to the guards, who nodded and took a step back. The bearded guard holstered his pistol, still staring menacingly down at Lupin. 

“Our business is finished,” Lin declared. “Do not contact us further.” 

With that, they turned to walk out of the alleyway, the bulldog-looking guard talking quietly to Lin. The three turned the corner and disappeared from sight. 

“Lupin!” Fujiko shouted, embracing him. “I was so scared! I’m so glad you came so quickly, I was afraid I was going to die! Oh, Lupin, you saved me!” 

Her words quickly became muddled and incomprehensible as she sobbed into Lupin’s jacket. 

“I told you I would come, Fujiko dear,” Lupin said, stroking her auburn hair. She swiftly tilted her head up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Lupin could feel his cheeks flushing as a huge smile spread across his face. He turned to grin triumphantly at Jigen, who merely huffed and turned away, taking a new cigarette out of his pocket and pretending not to see them. 

Typical. 

After a few more tearful words, the three headed off to the hideout they had prepared beforehand. The abandoned building was on the outskirts of the city and looked as if it would collapse upon itself at any given moment. Living in such places was a rather displeasing but necessary part of hiding after a heist. 

Lupin called Goemon to come to Munich, just as Jigen had requested, and Goemon agreed to come. No bribing, no goading, no strings attached. The decision was surprising, but Lupin knew better than to ask the moody samurai any further questions. 

Jigen went out to check if Zenigata was lurking around the darker corners of Munich—a poorly disguised excuse to be absent while Lupin and Fujiko were in the same room. Lupin didn’t know _what_ Jigen was complaining about—as long as this heist ended with him and Fujiko together, it could hardly be called a waste of time. 

He spent much of the evening conversing and discussing possible plans for the next heist over a bottle of wine, occasionally letting his eyes wander her body as she spoke. The few times Fujiko had caught him she had vehemently kicked him in the shin. By the end of the night, Lupin had collected several shiny new bruises on his legs. 

The next morning, Lupin woke up with a searing throat and a headache. 

The room was still dark, the heavy curtains only allowing the smallest amounts of light filter through. He could feel that the threadbare sheets were soaked with sweat and he blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Getting up wasn’t even an option—everything was sore. 

Fujiko was gone, of course—he would be a fool to ever consider otherwise. He lay in bed for several minutes, groaning pitifully, before the door finally opened and someone shuffled in. 

“You sound like a dying animal,” Jigen deadpanned as he threw a newspaper onto Lupin’s face. Lupin let it sit there for a few moments before lifting an arm to throw it back, not bothering to see where it landed. 

“I _feel_ like a dying animal,” Lupin groaned, rubbing at his temples. “Do you know where Fujiko went?” 

There was no initial response, which Lupin took to be a “no”. 

“I told you that she’d ditch us the moment we rescued her,” Jigen muttered, sitting down on the bed next to Lupin and holding a hand to his burning forehead. “Jesus—why didn’t you say you were cold the other day?” 

“ _Jigen_ , I’ve got to keep up my image, even around you,” he croaked, sniffing a few times. “How come _you’re_ not sick? You were sneezing and complaining just the other day. _And_ you fell into the snow, like, what, three times?” 

“Twice. My throat _does_ feel a little sore, but I think I’ll be okay.” There was a pause as he bent down to pick up the newspaper. “Maybe you should’ve been the one to wear that wolf pelt.” 

Lupin could hear the smile in Jigen’s voice and muttered “Didn’t stop you from catching a case of _schadenfreude_ ,” though he wasn’t sure Jigen heard. Maybe Jigen was feeling better than yesterday—Lupin did feel sort of bad for dragging him along when he knew his friend didn’t mix with cold weather. But, Jigen did come along despite complaining for hours, after all. 

“Shouldn’t your joints be freezing over from arthritis at your age, anyways?” 

“Respect your elders, asshole,” came the snappish reply. 

Nope. Still as grumpy as usual. 

There was a stretch of silence before Jigen spoke again. “The heist is in the papers—I bought an English one from a newsstand in the square.” 

Lupin let out a low whine, screwing his eyes shut. God, he felt like he was burning up. “Read it to me.” 

He heard Jigen mutter something about “fucking pampered as shit” and he couldn’t help but let out a hoarse laugh. It died in his throat as sunlight suddenly flooded the room. 

“Jiiiiiiiigen, close the curtains!” 

“You asked me to read the newspaper. I can’t read in the dark.” 

It looked as if he would get no sympathy from his partner today. Lupin let out a loud sigh as he cracked his eyes open to look at Jigen, who was squinting at the article in the sunlight. 

_“‘Last night, the notorious thief Lupin the Third and his partner-in-crime, known only as ‘Daisuke Jigen’, broke into the mansion of Lord Gerulf Ebner and stole what he identified as ‘the Lykoi Chest’. Lupin had sent a calling card to Lord Ebner a day in advance, leaving time for the police to prepare for his arrival. Interpol agent Koichi Zenigata arrived on the scene quickly to deal with the intruders’_ —more like he arrived in the last five minutes—” 

“Keep reading. Stop being so loud.” 

“I _am_ reading, let me finish— _‘Despite this, however, the two thieves managed to elude police capture in an inflatable rubber raft and make off into the moonlit night with the stolen treasure.’_ Oh, for God’s sake, the language in this article is utterly _unprofessional_. And they called that rotting heap of wood a _treasure?!_ ” 

“Jigen,” Lupin mumbled, abruptly cutting Jigen off, “you’re making my headache worse. Please stop yelling.” 

Jigen fell quiet. He raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Lupin, who continued to whine in a pitiful manner. 

After a few minutes, Lupin finally spoke up again. “What’s the rest of the article say?—no more yelling, just a summary, please.” 

“I wasn’t yelling,” Jigen huffed, his voice significantly quieter. The room was silent again, save for the faint rustling of newspaper. Lupin shut his eyes, hoping to quell the pounding in his head. 

“It’s just some more about Zenigata and how notorious you are and…looks like an interview with Ebner, cited from another paper. I should’ve bought the New York Times.” 

Lupin blinked, sitting up before a wave of nausea forced him to lie on his side. “Did they mention anything else about the chest?” 

“What?” A pause. “Uh…I don’t think so?” Jigen lifted the brim of his hat to skim the article again. “Wait, here’s a line. _‘The exact nature of the chest in question has not been made public by Lord Ebner.’_ ” 

Lupin hummed a little, resting his head on his hand. The more he thought, the blurrier his vision became and the more his head felt as if it was being hit by a sledgehammer. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Hm?” Lupin slowly rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just—weird. We’ve had no information on this thing whatsoever, and Lin wasn’t much help. I searched up some stuff last night, and it turns out _lykoi_ is Greek for ‘wolves’, but that didn’t lead anywhere.” He rubbed his chin, lost in thought. “Lin said she was working independently, but I seriously doubt that—she’s probably part of some sort of syndicate or—or organization, maybe? If so, why didn’t she tell us?” 

“So you _weren’t_ just trying to get in bed with Fujiko again?” Jigen let out a snort and Lupin shot him a stony glare. “A wolf pelt kept in a wolf chest. Great. Not a whole lot of creativity, huh? But, yeah, I thought that whole business with Lin was too tight-lipped for my liking. Do you think the thing written on it was just ‘Lykoi’?” 

Lupin shrugged. “Maybe? It looked a little different. Maybe it’s a variation of the word. We should’ve salvaged the thing when we had the chance.” 

He opened his mouth to speak once more when he realized that his throat felt as if it had been scraped raw. With a dramatic sigh, he asked, “Jigen, would you be a dear and get water for my poor throat?” 

He heard a small huff. “Fine. Only because you’re sick.” 

“You’d do it even if I wasn’t sick.” 

“Be quiet.” 

Lupin grinned triumphantly and turned on his side as Jigen left the room. His head was swimming and his vision was growing fuzzy. The newspaper had been left on the windowsill, and he could see a smug-looking portrait of Ebner next to the article. Maybe later he’d investigate more into this Lykoi business. 

But first, he needed to pass out for another few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Rem and Sycamore for being lovely beta readers, and for helping me make sure my sentences aren't utter garbage!
> 
> I've been attempting to do NaNoWriMo so I won't fall behind on my writing, but given various mental health problems and such, I haven't really been able to do much. So, that being said, the next chapter may take some time before it is satisfactory and I can upload it. Please be patient! Thank you very much for reading, and suggestions on how to improve are always welcome.


	3. The Heist

Goemon arrived the next morning, much to Jigen’s disbelief. There were no questions asked—both Jigen and Lupin knew that if they were to interrogate him, the only answer they would receive would be a silent glare.

It took a full week for Lupin to get back on his feet again. On the first day, he slept. Whenever he wasn’t comatose, he was either complaining for more water (provided by Jigen with some amount of grumbling) or shuffling off to the bathroom to throw up. This pattern persisted into the second day. 

Goemon was usually busy meditating on the rooftop, occasionally observed by Jigen. They quickly discovered that the hideout wasn’t abandoned at all—the attic was a roost for an enormous flock of pigeons. Every so often, a pigeon would inch its way towards Goemon and land on his head, much to the amusement of the gunslinger and the annoyance of the samurai. The problem persisted enough that eventually Goemon snatched up one of the poor birds and, after a moment of consideration, began to chastise it quietly. Jigen let out a howl of laughter. 

On the third day, Lupin insisted on being able to work. Despite all of his efforts, however, he ended up back in bed—shivering, miserable, and overall, worse than before. Eventually, he decided to let Jigen and Goemon care for him. That night, Goemon made miso soup over a kerosene burner. Lupin drank three bowls and promptly vomited it all back up, causing Goemon to mutter something about western hygiene practices. 

After four days, Lupin was finally able to eat without throwing up. He tried to call Fujiko, only to discover her phone number was no longer in service and fell into a state of despair. To Jigen, it was utterly pathetic to see the best thief in the world reduced to a whining fool over a _woman._

To spare himself from Lupin’s griping, he took the day to wander about Munich. Jigen had spotted Zenigata snooping around the city, asking various tourists if they had seen a monkey-faced man wearing a bright sports jacket wandering about. (“He’s typically with this mafia-looking guy and a samurai—I’m telling the truth, stop laughing!”) It seemed that Lupin’s condition served well to hide him from wandering eyes. 

On the fifth day, Lupin had been weakly going over his notes on the heist with Jigen when they heard the shuffling of wooden sandals. Goemon pulled over a chair to sit at the rickety table with them, glancing over the museum blueprints and the illegible scrawl in the margins. Lupin didn’t look up. 

“We haven’t sent out the calling card yet—hi, Goemon—so we don’t know for sure where they’ll be adding any extra security systems.” He paused for a moment to let out a rasping cough. “If we send it out tomorrow, that’ll give us some time to prepare anything we need, and, as usual, I could go in as Zenigata to find out any details—” 

Something cooed, and there was a quiet, muffled laugh from Jigen. Lupin looked up at the sound, his expression confused before he glanced at Goemon. A russet-colored pigeon was perched on his head, preening itself and looking quite comfortable. Goemon looked back at Lupin. 

“It won’t leave,” he said, his voice deadpan. Jigen suddenly burst out into laughter, joined feebly by Lupin. Goemon’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly, his expression irked. 

The next day, Lupin was almost completely healthy. He took this as a sign to immediately send out his calling card—and, as usual, Zenigata wasted no time in responding to it. For the next two weeks, the thieves worked day and night, making regular trips to the museum in disguise and perfecting their plan. Jigen’s most significant role in the heist would be to snipe from the roof, and so Lupin had carefully hidden a rifle under some roof tiles during a “routine” building inspection. Lupin, true to his word, had disguised as Zenigata and observed the newly placed security systems, which included a motion detector and several strategically placed lasers that would alert the security system of anyone who passed through without an ID card. It only took a day of preparation to compensate for these new security measures. 

When he was not helping Lupin, Jigen made regular trips into the city—sometimes keeping tabs on Zenigata, but mostly just exploring the local bars and landmarks. Occasionally, he would be joined by Lupin (now able to fully appreciate the city), and sometimes even Goemon and his pigeon. Dogs often barked at them as they passed, and Lupin joked that they were secretly working for ICPO. Goemon still meditated on the roof almost every night, though, from what Jigen could see, he didn’t so much spend time meditating as much as staring out at the horizon with a tense expression. 

All too soon, the night of the heist had arrived. Almost everything was in place—all they had to do was wait. Lupin was scrambling to make the last adjustments to the devices he had prepared. Jigen walked up to the roof to find Goemon, who was sitting cross-legged and staring out at the brilliant sun and the incandescent orange sky. As he drew closer, he could see that Goemon was holding the red pigeon in his lap, gently stroking its feathers. 

Jigen raised an eyebrow before letting out a cough, alerting his friend to his presence. “Oi, Goemon. It’s almost eight, we’ve gotta go soon if we want to set up on time.” 

There was a long stretch of silence before Goemon responded. “Greetings, Jigen,” he said steadily, still turned away from him. “I am aware. And, as _you_ should know, all that I am required to bring is Zantetsuken.” 

Glancing down at the sheathed katana tucked under Goemon’s arm, Jigen stuck a cigarette between his teeth before sitting down next to the samurai. They waited in silence, only interrupted by the quiet cooing of pigeons. 

Finally, Goemon spoke again. “Have you been afraid of your gun handling capabilities falling short of mastery?” 

Jigen blinked, looking over at Goemon. “What? Uh.” He really wished that Goemon would stop trying to speak so eloquently all the time. “Sometimes, I guess? I mean, in this line of business, you have to keep your skills sharp, unless you want to be killed. And we’re always practicing on the job, so…” 

He trailed off awkwardly, looking down at the ground. Goemon stopped petting the pigeon. 

“There is…something I must confide in you.” He spoke haltingly, and his voice was low. “The reason that I agreed to come on this heist.” 

Jigen studied Goemon carefully. His expression remained stoic as always, but a hand was now wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Go on.” 

There was a moment of hesitation before Goemon continued. “As you know, for the past few months, I had resumed my training in Japan. My skills were steadily improving, and all was well. Later, I met with an old friend whom I used to train with when we were younger. As I had been training far more consistently than he had, my skills appeared to be far more advanced than his.” 

His knuckles had turned white as he was now gripping his sword in an almost painful manner. Jigen scooted backwards a little, in case he decided to unsheathe it and slash at him. 

“However, one day, we decided to spar, to see how each of us had progressed. We were going to use wooden swords, as to not hurt each other. And he—” 

Goemon’s eyes were now screwed shut as his voice wavered. “He easily defeated me without Zantetsuken. I was being careless, I was…too confident in my own abilities. My improvement stagnated over the next few weeks. As a result, I began to question whether…whether I truly deserve the title of being a master swordsman. There is still much for me to learn, and I am still unable to come even close to mastery. _Especially_ if I continue to use this sword.” 

Arm shaking, he raised his sword up and gripped the hilt, only to sigh and let it fall to his side again. Jigen stared at him. Goemon, not being a master swordsman? That was like claiming Lupin was a third-rate bank robber, or that Jigen was just another dog of the mafia. With a small huff, he crushed his cigarette against the roof tiles and flicked it to the ground. 

“Listen. I know that you’re _really fucking good_ at using a sword. Holy _shit_ , do you _know_ how many times you’ve saved us single-handedly?” 

Goemon’s expression darkened. “Those ‘things’ were the result of using Zantetsuken. Its own abilities are not reflective of my own, as shown by the spar with my friend. I am useless without it—and with it, I am just a sword to be used whenever one pleases.” 

He spoke bitterly, and resumed ruffling the pigeon’s feathers in an agitated fashion. Jigen’s brow furrowed. He swore that Goemon was tearing up—how long had he kept this to himself? “Look, even if that were the case,” he said, shoving his hat lower over his head, “I would not wish for a better samurai on our team.” 

“That is _not_ comforting—” 

“Ji-gen! Go-e-mon!” interrupted Lupin’s voice. “Let’s go! We’re gonna be late if we sit around for much longer!” 

The pigeon in Goemon’s hands cooed a final time before taking off, its wings beating furiously as it went to join its own friends. Jigen shot the samurai a final glance before helping him to his feet, and the two began to walk downstairs. 

“Why are you so attached to that pigeon, anyways?” Jigen asked, lifting the brim of his hat to look at Goemon. 

“I have been training it to be a carrier pigeon.” 

“What?” 

Goemon nodded, his expression blank once more. “Have you not noticed? I have been bringing it with me to Munich and sending it back here to test its abilities. Perhaps, one day, it would serve as a useful companion in a time of need.” 

Jigen let out a sharp, barking laugh. “Yeah, have it deliver Zantetsuken to you during a battle. Sounds like a flawless plan.” 

“I don’t need Zantetsuken to break your arm.” 

“Whoa, whoa! See? You can totally fight without a sword.” 

Goemon just let out a sigh. 

By the time the two had walked outside, Lupin was already sitting in the Fiat, adjusting the radio. It was the same car from the last time—it still had the same dents and scratches. How Lupin ever managed to preserve that hunk of scrap and bring it wherever they went was a mystery. 

“Were you guys making out on the roof or something? You took forever to get down here!” Lupin complained. “Get in the car, we’ve gotta stay on schedule.” 

\---

Sneaking into buildings was easy—it was sneaking out that was always difficult. Jigen was standing at attention in the hallway of the museum, dressed in a full guard uniform. The police had arrived rather quickly, and Lupin was already in the building—though, no one except Goemon and Jigen knew this. Zenigata was pacing up and down the hall, hands shoved into his pockets and peering around at the guards for any stray movement. Jigen often wondered why Zenigata never saw through his incredibly simple disguises—after all, his beard was rather distinct. 

His walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life, and an unfamiliar voice broke through a wall of static. “Ins—tor Zenigata! Lupin is—rooftop! He just landed—!” 

Zenigata practically leapt into action. “IT’S LUPIN!” he shouted, as if none of the other policemen had heard the transmission. “TO THE ROOF, QUICKLY!” 

Jigen sprinted after Zenigata, who plowed past a group of his men to race up the stairs. A throng of policemen followed, keeping up at various paces. 

Bursting through the door to the rooftop, there was nothing to be seen besides a few startled guards. The sun had become nothing but a red sliver just above the horizon, and the sky was now streaked with bloody crimson. 

“Where is Lupin?!” Zenigata demanded, marching up to a nearby guard. 

“I—I don’t know—it was a mistake—there was this dummy that just appeared on the roof and we—” 

“IDIOTS!” snarled Zenigata, causing the guard to wince. “This was obviously a distraction! Bother me when the real Lupin shows up!” 

He began to storm off when another voice came from his walkie talkie. “Zenigata! Zenigata! Lupin’s in the archive room! We’re calling all men to apprehend him!” 

Zenigata snatched up his walkie-talkie again and barked, “Are you sure it’s him?” 

“Positive! He’s moving around on the cameras!” 

“Alright, men! TO THE BASEMENT!” 

With a roar, all of the guards and policemen stormed down the stairs, leaving Jigen alone on the roof. A cold gust of wind chilled him to the bone, causing him to shiver. He lifted his watch to his face, gingerly pulling out the crown and adjusting it ever so slightly. 

“Lupin, come in, Lupin. This is Jigen, the roof has been cleared.” 

A small, familiar voice responded. “Excellent work!” Lupin said cheerfully. “They should be going on their little wild goose chase right now. I can’t believe a little edited film and some dummies would fool all of them.” 

Jigen couldn’t help but grin as he glanced down at the hall beneath the skylights. “Don’t get carried away down there, alright? Zenigata seems more fired up than usual.” 

“You insult me, Jigen, dear. Now…” His voice suddenly trailed off, causing Jigen to frown. The distinct sputtering of a motorcycle could be heard through the speaker. After a moment or two of hesitation, Lupin let out a small laugh. “Looks like Fujiko is finally here.” 

“What?” Jigen demanded. “You didn’t ask her to come along, did you?” 

“No, no, though I figured she’d come to take whatever we’re stealing. Don’t worry, I prepared for this. Go get set up. I’ll check in with you later!” 

Muttering to himself about how Lupin could have told him beforehand, Jigen pushed in the crown of his watch. He began to make his way across the rooftop, counting the roof tiles and avoiding the windowpanes. The sky had now become completely dark. After fifty tiles, he crouched down to reach the sniper rifle Lupin had hidden. He felt around until his fingers brushed against and gripped tightly at the cold metal, pulling it up. Laying it carefully on the ground, he took off his disguise to reveal his own clothes underneath and securely pulled his regular hat over his eyes. God, he relished a smooth heist. 

The sound of footsteps interrupted his search for ammunition. Startled, he glanced over his shoulder to see a silhouette racing towards him, dressed in a large cloak. The figure stopped just short of Jigen, staring down at him. 

“Hey!” he shouted, now wishing he hadn’t taken off his disguise. He reached for his magnum before realizing he had left it at the hideout for this heist. Fantastic. Jigen crouched down again to reach the sniper rifle. “ _Hey!_ How the hell did you get up here?” 

A faint growl responded. He found himself sliding painfully on his face as someone tackled him from behind, knocking the sniper rifle out of his hand and pinning his arms behind his back. A desperate wheeze escaped from his lungs as all of the breath was knocked out of him. Frantically, he made a motion to grab his gun, only to have it kicked away by the figure in front of him. It went flying over the ledge, lost to the police cars below. The person on his back shoved his hat lower over his head to cover his eyes. 

“Assholes!” Jigen growled as he tried to roll over. A sharp pain that raced through his spine caused him to cry out. His skin was itching—no, burning. It felt as if he was being burned alive. Every limb felt like it was being twisted and stretched and he could not breathe, he could not speak, he could not see. A silent scream scratched its way up his throat and into the night. 

There was a far-away shout, a blunt force on the back of his neck, and the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finally updated this fic! Thanks again for Rem and Herbert for looking this over!
> 
> I'll try and finish the next chapter more quickly, aha. Wouldn't really be fair to leave you guys on a cliffhanger for a month.
> 
> Again, please leave feedback if there's anything I can improve on or if there's something I need to fix!


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